


The Confetti of Sub-Atomic Particles

by hooksandheroics



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Long Distance Relationship, arts and crafts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooksandheroics/pseuds/hooksandheroics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a dare -- because even with miles apart, Clarke Griffin still holds his heart in every way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confetti of Sub-Atomic Particles

It starts with a dare – because even with miles apart, Clarke Griffin still holds his heart in every way possible.

It was a Tuesday morning to him, and a Monday evening to her when she slumps in front of her laptop with the most world-weary sigh he has ever heard in all his twenty-seven years on Earth. He laughs, despite trying to reel it in.

She turns her head sharply and glares at him, and that’s when he finds it. That tiny speck of light reflecting from her cheek, so small it’s undeniable. Even through the pixelated Skype screen, he can never get this wrong.

“Let me guess,” he says, leaning forward. “It’s do-whatever-you-want day in Art class today, isn’t it?”

She looks like she’s about to argue, tell him he’s wrong even when he’s not because… well, just because. But she resigns and rolls her eyes at him instead. “Pete wanted to know what it feels like to be a fairy.”

He grins. “I’m sure the glitters made him feel like a fairy.”

She huffs.

“You hate it,” he says. And then waits. Because if Clarke hates a thing, something like this, something that’s not really offensive, she goes out of her way to prove that she doesn’t. It’s pretty funny actually, and makes for an easy dare that’s sure to blow up in their faces. But mostly, just fun.

“I don’t _hate_ it,” she replies, indignant with her arms crossed in front of her. It pushes her breasts together and it distracts him for a little bit. But he’s allowed – it’s been so long (one month, but one month is _too_ long) and Skype sex is not really as satisfying as the real thing. “I just think it’s unnecessary – like the appendix or something. And who said fairies have glitters? I mean, who has ever seen one? What if they have everything _but_ glitters? Besides, those things are eternal.”

For the most part, he was doing a good job in hiding this huge fucking grin, but he’s only human and the woman he loves is going on and on about _not_ hating glitters thinking it’s improper for an elementary school Art teacher to hate glitters, which is universally considered the raisin cookies of the craft world.

She stops in the middle of her rant that has curiously branched out into something about mail – (“…and now people are sending glitters to people they hate, like in the mail, and I think that adds to my bias –”) and glares at him, all poison and heat.

“You hate it.”

“I don’t!”

“You hate it _so much_. Admit it.”

“No. I don’t. And I’m going to prove it,” she says and he tries to conceal his amusement.

“How?”

She smirks, and it’s his turn to look terrified. Scheming Clarke is terrifying, and he may have anticipated this but it still is. And her smirk does things to him. He’s not sure if she knows, but if she doesn’t, she’s close to knowing. “That’s none of your business. Now, are we going to Skype sex or are we still talking about glitters?”

And he’s gone after that.

They don’t talk about the glitter dare in the next four days mostly because it’s four days closer to him coming home, and partly because he forgot about it. She doesn’t mention it as well, which in retrospect, he should have figured was part of her plan. But Clarke has a lot of elementary school stories to share, enough to distract him from this strong but dull and heavy ache in his chest.

One month away from home isn’t that long, he and Clarke both know it. He’s spent most of the time he’s in love with Clarke a couple of cities and a few thousand miles away from her, and also pretending not to give a fuck about his feelings. But now that he’s got his shit together, now that she knows, and now that they’re living together. Yeah. One month is long.

Octavia calls a day before his scheduled flight back home to Maine and greeted him with, “You totally forgot to tell me to babysit your plant, dimwit.” Which is code for ‘I miss you and you know it so I’m not going to mention it, dimwit’.

He chuckles. “I miss you too, O. And I’m sure I did, you just didn’t listen.”

“Yeah, good thing Clarke wouldn’t ever let your weird cactus die,” she trails off, like she’s doing something else, which is understandable since it’s a weekday and she’s supposed to be working. On another tattoo or on asking Lincoln out, he’s not sure, but she’s _supposed_ to be busy right now. He’s just thankful she found the time to ring him up.

There’s another scuffle and then, “Okay, just called to let you know you’re banned from my apartment for the next couple of weeks. Bye!”

Hm. Weird.

Not that this is the first time Octavia has banned him from her apartment. A couple of years ago, when he got a decent job near her place and came over all the time and bickered with her roommate, Clarke, all the time. Octavia got fed up, told him he’s only coming over to annoy the hell out of them, and then took away his key. She belatedly found out, about the same time he did actually, that he was only doing it to see said roommate. She lifted the ban, told him he should talk to Clarke like a normal human being, and maybe work on asking her out.

The ‘talking to Clarke like a normal human being’ plan worked out, obviously. But the latter part didn’t happen until a little later.

Nevertheless, it isn’t the first time, but it surely is a weird time.

It doesn’t occur to him until he’s walking down the inside the airport that every little clue has been pointing him to this moment. Given that he analyzes historical artifacts to determine whether Ferdinand Magellan was a lefty or not like a detective but nerdier, he sure did very poorly with this particular puzzle.

But here he is, jet lagged and sleepy, walking down the crowded area with his head above the sea of people, trying to look for a flash of blonde hair. And then he sees it – probably the biggest banner out of all the banners being waved in the air at the airport.

It’s huge, green, and fucking shining with what looks like a whole Walmart’s stock of glitters. It’s fucking hideous, but it says “NERD” in big bold letters and holding it is Clarke, looking at him with an expression too smug for her own good.

He can’t help it, he stops in his tracks, doubles over, and laughs, well aware of all the people he’s inconveniencing with his sudden decision to halt, also too overcome with both relief and joy at seeing his girlfriend to care.

It takes him a minute – probably a couple of minutes, to be honest – and when he thinks he’s steady enough to not fall over with laughter again, he walks towards her.

Her arms must hurt from holding the cardboard banner up that long because she drops them almost immediately, fanning an insane amount of loose glitters all over the floor and onto him. Bellamy makes a face at her, but shit – there’s Clarke and it’s been so long since he last kissed her.

He kisses her, short and sweet and chaste, because they’re in public and the security guys are already glaring at them. But Clarke has other plans in mind, licking at the roof of his mouth, bringing a hand to grab at his hair and pulling until he’s pliant. He moans into her mouth – she knows too well his weakness – and then he jerks away.

She’s giggling and holding one hand up, the other still holding the sign, her open palm riddled with so much glitter it’s terrifying.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, shaking his hair until little green and blue specks fall from it.

Clarke shakes her head and wraps an arm around him, this embrace feeling like it should be awkward with the angle and all, but he just returns it with both his arms.

She buries her nose in his neck, breathes him in, maybe even sniffles a bit, he’s not sure. “I missed you so much, you nerd.”

“I love you,” he replies because he can’t really help it.

He feels her smile against his skin, small and happy. “I love you, too.”

As it turns out, both of them are banned from Octavia’s apartment for a week until they have disposed of the hideous banner, and until all traces of glitters have gone. And Clarke swears it’s all gone – but years later and he still finds shining specks on stuff, and on his hairline.

He hates it so much, but it's eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments. :) Or come yell at me on [tumblr](http://hooksandheroics.tumblr.com) about the 100.


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